Her Grave
Let there be roses where she lies
And let there be a lily,
And when the daylight dawns or dies
Let nowhere be so stilly.
Let children come, of whom 'twas said—
“Of such-like are My Father's,”
And nothing base be hither led
While storm or sunshine gathers.
When many years forget her name
And ancient ivies creep there,
Pray God preserve me free from blame
And pure enough to sleep there!
And let there be a lily,
And when the daylight dawns or dies
Let nowhere be so stilly.
Let children come, of whom 'twas said—
“Of such-like are My Father's,”
And nothing base be hither led
While storm or sunshine gathers.
When many years forget her name
And ancient ivies creep there,
Pray God preserve me free from blame
And pure enough to sleep there!
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